


Never Meant to Do You Wrong

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-21
Updated: 2003-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Leo/Margaret - "I never meant to cause you trouble/I never meant to do you wrong/I, well if I ever caused you trouble/Oh, no I never meant to do you harm."





	Never Meant to Do You Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  


**Never Meant to Do You Wrong**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Character(s):** Leo, Margaret, ensemble  
**Category(s):** AU  
**Disclaimer:** They're not mine; they belong to NBC, WB, et al. Also, "Trouble" is by Coldplay. Don't know who owns those rights or anything, as I downloaded it off Napster. Gee, I'm just asking for a lawsuit, aren't I?  
**Summary:** "I never meant to cause you trouble/I never meant to do you wrong/I, well if I ever caused you trouble/Oh, no I never meant to do you harm."  
**Author's Note:** Response to Katie's challenge where Margaret becomes an alcoholic or addict, and Leo's there, somewhere. Yeah, I *don't* actually believe this would ever happen, but it was fun to write anyway... 

{Prologue} 

{Donna Moss} 

I can't believe this happened to her. 

I mean, of all the people in this office... I've always thought that she would be least susceptible to something like this. Because of, you know. Who she is. Who she knows. 

Who she works with. 

I guess it all started right after... right after Rosslyn. I mean, it was all pretty hectic then, what with everything that happened. Hers was the only one of our bosses who actually went into work for a while. He was the first one back in the West Wing after the shoo- 

After the incident. 

And, as Leo was the only one around for a few hours, she ended up taking the brunt of the work. I guess that occupied her for a while, you know. For a few hours. Then, after a few days had passed... obviously, Josh wouldn't be in to work for quite a while. And I, being Josh's assistant, would not be in to work for a while, either. The big baby needed me at his house, to fetch him water and clip his toenails. 

I say this lovingly, of course. 

So, all of our work fell on Leo. Which meant, of course, that it fell on her. Margaret. Basically, what I'm trying to say, is that she didn't really have that shock time that the rest of us had after the incident. She was working from minute one, and didn't stop for a breather or a break. Neither did Leo, mind you, but he'd been through things like this before. Okay, well, no, that's not fair; he'd never had his best friend and son-like-person shot right there in front of him before, but you get what I'm saying. 

He'd been through traumatic experiences before. He knew how to look at all of this objectively. 

Now, I'm not saying that Margaret is some flitty little thing who'd faint at the slightest bit of stress. Obviously, she isn't, because she works for Leo McGarry. Don't get me wrong, I love the man like a father, but he's hard. Politically, he's Josh in a good fifteen or twenty years. And when you're like that politically, it's hard to keep it out of your personal relationships with other non-political people. 

What I'm saying is, we should have seen this coming and forced her to take a break. And when I say we, I mean, myself, Mrs. L., Carol, Ginger, Cathy. Not Josh, not President Bartlet, not CJ, not Toby, not Sam, not even Leo. 

He did, though. I'm surprised it took him so long to see it, but he did. He caught it when no one else did, and now Margaret's doing better. 

But I still can't believe it happened. 

{Ellie Bartlet} 

I can't speak for Dad. I can't speak for anyone in my family. 

But I've known Margaret for, god, seven years? Eight? That sounds about right. She's like a favorite aunt to me, or a sister, like Zoey and Lizzie, but not. Whenever Daddy was down here in DC, and whenever Uncle Leo went up to Manchester, it was like visiting family. 

So, since I can't speak for anyone else, I'll just say for myself that Margaret's close to me. I love her dearly. And when Dad called me "just to call," well, I knew something was up. I didn't know what, but I could tell by his tone of voice that something was wrong. 

I drove down to see what was wrong with Dad. I thought, maybe, he'd finally filled Uncle Leo in on the one-term-only thing. Oh, wait, this is confidential, right? Like, you're not gonna go and tell the press that, are you? 

No? Okay, good. 

Anyway, I drove down to see Dad. Ever since that stupid "let's fire Millie but let's not" fiasco, we've gotten closer. A lot closer. I come down every weekend now, just to see him and Mom. So, me dropping in in the middle of the week... well, I guess it wasn't that normal, but it wasn't that odd either. I think, when they buzzed up and said, "Sir, it's your daughter," he was expecting Zoey or something. 

He was happy to see me, that's for sure. But I could see something was troubling him. I mean, he gets all rambly when he's worried. Like he just goes on and on and on about stupid things. Yeah, that's right, Mr. President talks about stupid things. 

Uncle Leo was there, and Mom, too. They looked worried, too; Uncle Leo, the most. He was just sitting there, jacket and tie off. He only looks that unkempt when something serious happens. I mean, really, personally serious. Not bombing a foreign country serious, but best friend just got shot serious. Not that, you know, bombing a foreign country isn't serious, but I'm just sayin'. 

Turns out that Margaret had been having trouble keeping calm after the shooting. Going to sleep, like. And she'd been antsy. But before you go thinking, well, gee, these guys should've seen the cues, Margaret's always been antsy. She's cool, but weird. 

I mean, this is the woman who shut down the entire White House e-mail system with information on bran muffins. 

Anyhow, she'd been having problems. And, she went to see someone about it. I guess they gave her a prescription or something, because the bottle had the pharmacy name and the date and all that stuff on it. I mean, I don't know where else she would have gotten it from. Uncle Leo's been clean a good seven years, and I know Mom doesn't leave prescription slips laying around. I don't think she even has any. 

But I guess Margaret just took it too far. Because, if Uncle Leo hadn't figured it out, I think she'd be in a hospital or something right now. 

{Lionel Tribbey} 

Okay. Let's get this over with. I have a job to do, you know. 

What?? Stop looking at me like that. It's not that I don't care, it's just that she's getting treatment, and Leo's got some temp working for him, so it's all taken care of. I mean, the temp's not nearly as good as Margaret, but really, who can be? Nobody, not when you've got to work with that crotchety old man. I really don't know how she can stand him. 

Fine. I'll sit here and talk and have you poke at my head, Stanley. You forget I know you, that I've known you since grade school. 

I am *not* neurotic! I've never been neurotic-okay, fine. Say what you will, I'm normal. I smile like normal humans do. I laugh, I cry, whatever. And, yes, I do care. I care a lot about what happens to Margaret. She's an inspiration to us all. 

I am *not* being sarcastic. I didn't say that sarcastically. I mean, anyone who can stand Leo McGarry is an inspiration. I swear, a day hasn't gone by where I haven't wanted to clobber him with that cricket bat for some back-asswards thing this administration has pulled. I really don't see how Margaret puts up with him. 

I'm fine, Stan. Margaret's gonna be okay, and so is everyone else. No, she's not going to be fired, I already looked into that. If Leo can be chief of staff of the White House, there's no reason Margaret can't be his secretary. It's not as if she spilled state secrets to anyone. She got a little... distracted, but that's understandable. Yeah, it'll look bad to the public, I mean, there'll be pirahnahs out there spouting off bull that Leo's a druggie and so's his secretary- 

I'm not being mean, Stanley. I'm just saying what *they* would say. Yes, I'm angry! They're good people, Stanley, I don't know if you realize that. Both of them. And Margaret's hit some hard times, that's all. But if this gets out, it'll hurt- 

The administration? Yeah, it'll hurt the administration. Stop interrupting me! I was going to say that it'll hurt her! Dammit, I don't want to see her hurt, hasn't she been hurt enough? She was there when Leo went into rehab the first time, and the second. 

This was already hurting her, Stanley. Do you get that? She didn't want anyone to find out, *not* because she was afraid for her job, but because she was afraid Leo would be disappointed in her. That's what she feared most. Leo's not disappointed in her, he's disappointed in himself; but he's not exactly as forthcoming with his feelings as I am. He can't tell her that. 

She's a good person, Stanley. They both are. You know I hate it when good people hurt. So yeah, yeah I'm angry. I'm angry at those punks who took potshots at us last summer. I'm angry at the quack who prescribed Valium to Margaret. I'm angry at Leo for not spotting this. And, yeah, I guess I'm angry at myself for not being able to fix it. 

Ahh, dammit. Gimme the goddamned kleenex. You owe me one, you know that? You old jackass. 

{Ainsley Hayes} 

I don't know too much about Margaret. She's nice, though. I mean, she was nice to me when I first came here. She was my first friend, I guess you could say. 

Everyone else hated me. Except her and Leo. Even though I'd written those editorials about Mr. McGarry, they took me in. Oh, at first, she was wary of me, I guess she thought I was gonna say something mean about Mr. McGarry... but, after I made my first blunder-I forget what it was, I've made so many-after I made my first one, she kind of just took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. 

I don't get to leave the dungeon-that's what I call my office, it's in the basement and kind of scary-I don't get to leave it that much, so when Lionel asked me to do some research on precedents for keeping on workers in federal buildings who have had substance abuse problems, naturally I got a little worried. He didn't tell me to whom he was referring, and as I am merely the assistant to the White House counsel, I decided not to pursue that particular line of research. 

It wasn't until later that day when Donna came down for lunch that I found out who the person was that Lionel had been referring to. 

I guess, like Donna, I never thought that Margaret would allow that kind of thing to happen. I mean, I know that people just don't *allow* themselves to become addicted to things, but I thought she would have known the warning signs. I remember her telling me about Leo, not too long ago... about when she'd figured out he was on pills. I'd simply asked her about what it was like to work for him, and she just got started on it. 

I guess, in retrospect, I should have suspected something... she seemed almost guilty as she recounted those experiences. I guess I should have figured something out. But I didn't. 

I'm glad Mr. McGarry figured it out. I'm glad Margaret's going to be okay now. She's nice, and I'm glad Lionel's going that extra leg to make sure she stays here. Don't tell him this, but I like Lionel. No, not like *that*. What I mean is, he's a nice person, no matter what he says to the contrary. I mean, he set up this meeting with you, and he's the one who did all the research on nearby treatment facilities. 

Oh, he didn't tell you that? Huh. I wonder why. Well, he didn't tell me, either. I just sort of figured it out. I guess he wanted to keep it a secret... oops. 

Um, are you going to eat that danish? 

{Leo McGarry} 

You know, it's been a good couple of years since I've talked with one of you guys. I was hoping I'd never have to, ever again. 

I'm sorry. I just don't know how to go about talking about this. I mean, this is a first for me. Used to be, it was everyone else, talking about *me*. 

I bet you're expecting me to say I remember it like it was yesterday. Well, I don't. It wasn't yesterday, and I was drugged up to the point that I can't remember much. You know how the sixties and seventies was for everyone else, like, "If you remember them, you weren't alive then"? Yeah, that's most of my adult life, really. I mean, I remember certain things. Like Mallory being born. And my wedding. And after rehab, everything. 

But before the first time, for alcohol? Not much. And before the second time, for pills? Not much more. 

I shouldn't be doing this, I should be talking about Margaret. I can't, though. I should have seen it coming. Dammit, but I should've seen it. 

It's why I got divorced, you know. No, not the addictions; at least, not the illicit ones. You know how addicts often get "replacement drugs"? Well, my replacement for liquor was Valium. And my replacement for that was work. 

What I mean to say is, I get wrapped up in it. If it isn't political, I don't know it. I guess that's why I couldn't help Margaret. She kept coming in later and later... I just thought she was getting caught in traffic, at first. 

And when it started to show in her work, I didn't notice that much. I mean, I *noticed*, but I just blamed it on the fact that we've been so overworked this past year or so. I knew, coming in, that Jed being president was going to make things tough. I knew this was gonna be a tough job. 

But it just seems as if we've been dealt more than our fair share of anxiety over the past three years, you know? 

So, I just passed Margaret's... decline in work habits... I just passed them off as stress-related. I didn't see the signs of... of addic... 

I didn't see the signs. I didn't know 'em. I got so wrapped up in work, and I didn't watch out for her... 

I wonder if this is what she felt like, so many years ago. 

Yeah, she was one of the ones to, you know. To see me at my worst, I guess. I mean, me just about passing out in the office with the pill bottle in my hand didn't leave much to the imagination. Oh, she knew I was a recovering alcoholic. You're from New York, right? Yeah, I'll just tell you, you might not have known, the rest of the country might not have known. But inside the Beltway, everyone knew that. The press conference last year, that was old news here. Except for the part about the pills. 

She helped keep that hidden from the press. Even though she knew full well what had happened... I mean, I don't know what she was thinking, but thank god she thought it. Do you know that, instead of calling an ambulance to cart me outta there, she called up Jed in New Hampshire? She called New Hampshire. I guess luck was on my side, because Abbey was in town for some women's conference, I dunno. She was in town. And Jed called her and asked her to come see me. I tell ya, I don't know where I'd be today if Margaret hadn't done that... that completely oddball thing. 

I owe her a lot. She means so much to me, Stanley. How did I miss this? She's always been there to catch me. I know she doesn't want me to know that, but I know it anyway. She's always there. 

I wasn't there for her. And now look where she is. 

{Interim} 

Stanley glanced at his watch; his time here was up. Everyone who had wanted to see him had come by, he figured. Packing up his tape recorder and notepads, he got ready to go back to New York. 

There was a knock on the door. Putting his stuff back down in his makeshift office, he said, "Come in." 

The door opened slowly and Jed Bartlet poked his head in. Seeing all of Stanley's things packed up, he apoligized, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were done. I'll leave." 

"No... Sir," he called out after the president. "If you need to talk, we can talk." 

Hesitating for just the slightest moment, Bartlet stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "It's just... I'm really worried about Leo." He paused and looked down at his shoes for a moment; and in that moment, he seemed more like a shy grade-schooler than the most powerful man in the free world. 

"Go on," Stanley urged quietly. 

"He's taking this personal. He's feeling really guilty, and..." Again, Bartlet paused, trying to formulate a sentence that did not want to be made. 

Licking his lips apprehensively, Stanley sat down on the edge of the table and finished the sentence. "And that's making *you* feel guilty." 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, the President nodded. "I mean, I know nobody's really to blame, but... part of me wonders if I should have seen this happening to Margaret. I saw it with Leo, but I didn't see it this time." 

"You're the President of the United States. Your attention doesn't lie in your secretarial staff," Stanley stated. 

"I know, but..." Shrugging, Bartlet paced the room slowly. "I've known Margaret for some time now; she's pretty close to my daughters, Ellie in particular. She's a wonderful person. And, she made a mistake. That's okay; everyone does. And, knowing Margaret, she'll get on with her life as soon as possible. She and Leo are a lot alike, in that respect." He paused thoughtfully. 

"In what respect?" Stanley queried. 

"They use work to deal with their problems. That's just the way they are. Like, when Jenny left him, Leo was doing more work than ever before. Not to say that he was lacadaisical prior to it, but he was so... so driven to do that much better after she left." Glancing up at the psychiatrist, he added, "But now I'm worried about him. He's so quiet, seems so preoccupied. He's never been this way before. This is really getting to him." 

Taking a deep breath, Stanley said, "I can go talk to him some more, if you like. It might even be helpful if you were there in a later session, sort of a shoulder to lean on if he needs it." 

The president regarded him thoughtfully. "I can do that. I'd like to do that." 

{Epilogue} 

Leo fidgeted in the car seat; nobody was around to notice. It had not taken Presidential intervention to get Leo to figure out what needed to be done. It had only taken ten more minutes of talking to Stanley. 

The light turned green. He glanced around and turned the steering wheel. Pulling his car into the single-lane sidestreet, he slowed down and glanced at the black-on-white street numbers. His car was not out of place; the neighborhood was filled with expensive, mute-colored vehicles. It was quiet, suburban Silver Spring, the East Springbrook community, and Leo vaguely wondered how Margaret could afford a place here. 

Pulling up to her house, he parked his car and sat there, just staring at its red brick exterior. Glancing at the clock, he sighed. Ten-thirty; she was probably in bed now. 

And if she wasn't, he'd pick her up and drop her there. 

A knock on his window startled him out of his thoughts. Looking outside, his expression changed from weary to surprised to somewhat annoyed. Rolling down the window, he asked, "Margaret, what the hell are you doing up? Why aren't you asleep?" 

"I *was* asleep," she hissed, pulling her robe tighter around her body. "Until Mrs. Bakely from across the street called me to tell me some 'strange looking fellow' was hanging around my house." 

"I'm a strange looking fellow, now?" he asked, slightly amused. 

"Yes, now open the damn door. It's freezing out here!" 

Leo unlocked the car door, and she climbed in. He eyed her with a smirk on his face. "Honestly, Margaret. Fluffy yellow robe and odd-looking dog slippers?" 

She stared down at her feet. "That's Scooby Doo." 

"Scooby who?" 

"Scooby-" He looked at her uncomprehendingly. "Never mind." 

"You don't... oh, wait, you didn't know Charlie Brown either," she muttered. After a moment of silence, she looked at him expectantly. "Well?" 

"Well, what?" he answered. 

"Well, what are you doing here? I assume you're not stalking me or anything," she replied smartly. 

Rolling his eyes, Leo muttered, "Oh, for cryin' out loud. Margaret-" 

"You haven't answered my question," she said. 

Regarding her quietly, he sighed. "I want to talk," he stated simply. "About... well, I want to know how you're doing." 

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Margaret looked away for a moment. "This is awkward, isn't it?" 

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously. 

"Wanna go for a drive?" 

He looked at her as she sat in his passenger seat, dressed in a nightgown, a fluffy yellow robe, and Scooby Doo bedroom slippers. There was a lot he needed to tell her, a lot he needed to admit to her. A lot he needed to admit to himself. He needed to talk with her, not just to her. And he figured she felt the same. 

With a tiny half-smile, he nodded and turned the key in the ignition. "Sure." 

-end. feedback is always appreciated.- 


End file.
